


In Bloom

by mamalorian



Series: Flora [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Mary Sue, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Pining, Touch-Starved, Virgin!Mando, or something like that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22086916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamalorian/pseuds/mamalorian
Summary: On a desert planet, the Mandalorian discovers a blooming flower amongst the ruin.(Draft stage - this will be updated)
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Flora [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589827
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	In Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> This post is an original draft and will be updated accordingly.

He leaves the Child on the ship with promises to return shortly. The night before, he had gotten word that one of the shopkeepers was having trouble with a thief.  _ Of sorts _ , the clerk explains to him.

Small job, better than nothing at this point. The repeating pattern of endless running from one planet to the next can take a toll when you’re cramped in a ship with an unruly toddler. It’s old at this point, but staying on this planet –  Kephair – doesn't have good odds either. 

He makes the hurried decision to stay on world, for just the night and leave the next after he solves the little larceny problem. It’s a standalone bakery, just down from the extensive marketplace, and seems to thrive in the local area. Located 500 yards from the 5 ship berth and hanger on the south end of town helps too, and he takes note of the heavy traffic. 

He instructs the day worker to go about her normal business, close at the normal time. He doesn’t want to throw the “thief”. Honestly, what can a thief get from a bakery when down the dusty road is a hustling marketplace? Perhaps the owner suspects his cashier? 

Just before nightfall, the girl locks the storefront and brushes by him with a terse nod. He remains in the dining area, hidden in the shadows thrown by the awning. The clerk had given him a brief tour, showing him how they thought this “low down” criminal was gaining entry. Close to the back, behind the counter and small kitchen, there was a door housing trash and a small sink. She explains that they were having such issues with loth cats, that they had to create a space indoors to house the trash and leftovers. 

He’s reclined against the wall when he hears a scuffling at the rear of the building. It’s faint and he  can  barely pick up on it over the sound of a rumbling ship taking flight. 

After what seems like an era, he strains his audio modulator and there’s the soft sounds of paper crinkling and dragging. He eases around the tables adorned with the mismatched chairs of questionable origin and lifts the partition leading behind the glass counter. The door gives a small sound of protest and he freezes instantly, breath halting in his lungs. 

There’s no further noise from the back, but he can tell that someone is there. Determined to wait them out, he eases the partition door down as gently as he can. 

After a brief, but tense silence the rustling starts up again. With bated breath he steps to the trash room door, glove hovering over the handle, just waiting for the right moment. It’s so quiet that for a  second , he believes that who or what on the other side of the door knows that he is there. 

Not wanting to lose his opportunity to get a quick pay and get off this rock, the Mandalorian yanks the door open, startling the person on the other side. With a squeal of surprise, they move to the exterior door quicker than he expects and try to make a hasty escape. 

“Hey!” He grouses, reaching out to catch the intruder by the hood of their dark cloak. He’s barely managed to get the edge of their hood caught in his fist, when a sudden whirl of fabric makes him take a step back, but not soon enough. Fire explodes up his forearm, erupting up into his shoulder blade and with a loud curse, he gives a mighty shove and knocks the figure to the ground. 

They’ve managed to wedge a knife of some kind between his armor, thankfully not near anything vital but  _ Kriff _ , it’s painful. They’re crouched below him, clutching a bag to close and breathing heavily. 

He’s grunting now, with the effort to remove the blade and his temper rising. Trying to keep an eye on the assailant and remove the blade is proving a bit more difficult, he can see the figure rising up on their knees, dropping the bag and reaching for him with a small hand.

“Oh God’s, I’m sorry mister! I thought you were the  _ bantha _ shit owner, Huan! Here let me - “

“Step back, kid.” He pulls the knife from his arm, with a muted groan that’s no louder than the suction sound the blade makes leaving his flesh. Blood spills across his armor and drips onto the ground. It wasn’t too far in, but enough to leave his head swimming at the removal. He can see the muscle torn and shredded,  _ Kriffing _ serrated blade...sliced through his flesh like butter.

Suddenly there’s a glove , pressing hard into the open wound on his arm and he uses his good hand to snatch at the front of their cloak. Twisting the cloth in his grasp he hauls them forward with a relentless grip. He’s dragged to his knees when both of them stumble, losing balance and – wait why are they holding him up?

He can feel the telltale sign of a small, but supple chest pressed against his side, where he’s dragged the kid closer.  _ Soft, _ he thinks before he has a brief moment of clarity. “Take the hood off, kid.” He says in a ragged whisper. 

Fingers tighten on his wound, but no other moment from the little thief. His patience is wearing thin between the  long - suffering silence before he reaches up with his wounded arm and drags the hood of the cloak down. 

_ Kriff _ _ , _ it’s a girl!

The elegant slope of her cheekbones stun s him for a moment before he suddenly releases her like she’s burned him. She falls unceremoniously on her rear with a “Oof!”

She's staring up at him with the most remarkable pair of eyes he’s ever seen. A multitude of colors ranging between blue, gray & green with the outermost ring a deep blue. There’s an amber colored streak bisecting through one of the pupils, giving it a cat like appearance. He’s never seen anything like it before and he’s trying to drag himself back into awareness when she sits up on her knees. 

“Gods, let me help you! I thought you wer-

“What’s in the bag, girl? Why’ve you been stealing from Huan?”

“Are you a real Mandalorian?”

He tilts his helmet down and to the left, as if to say  _ are you kidding me _ ?

She gives a sharp laugh, and he notices that she’s got a gap between her two front teeth. It’s a strange sort of balance that ties in with her extraordinary looks. “That old bastard hired you because I’m stealing food from his trash. Did you know that?”

The Mandalorian narrows his eyes behind his helmet and holds one hand out for the bag. She tosses it in his direction and he wants to believe that she is lying, but there inside the battered black cloth is an assortment of sweets, and breads. It’s the days leftovers that they’ve tucked away from the “loth-cat”.

“There’s starving children here, sir. I’ve asked countless times for him to provide anything he can, hells, I’ve even offered to pay for it! He’s a greedy and lazy sort. He’d rather throw this away than help younglings.”

He’s quiet for a moment and then she moves to stand, and she has to drop her head back to look up at him. She’s a tiny thing, no wonder he thought she was a Child herself. She’s young, maybe in her early twenties and why is she smiling at him again?

“I can show you, if you don’t believe me? I can help with that arm of yours.” She’s backing away, eyes sparkling in the darkness as she beckons him. 

He follows her at a quick pace, she’s small and could dart away at any second but...strangely she talks quietly to him while she leads him down a back alley. 

When they stop in front of a small hut, the girl whistles sharply and with the enthusiasm of a pup, several children burst forth from behind the curtain, crowding her with excited tones. She laughs and reaches for the bag, staring directly into his helmet. It’s a silent plea that he cannot ignore. 

When he relinquishes the bag, and watches her distribute the old food among the  rampant children, he feels something ugly stir behind his breastplate. She’s been stealing food to provide for orphaned children. 

He can tell she’s from off world, all of the locals here are dark eyed and tow headed. She stands out, amongst these excited children, like a flower. He’s watching her blossom right before his eyes. 

“Oh! Your arm, come with me.” She shoos the children away and pulls him into the hut. There’s an older woman sitting at the table, smiling softly and knitting what looks like some sort of blanket. He tries to take note of the meager surroundings as he’s pushed gently into a chair. 

The girl is flitting about the hut, gathering things and speaking in a soft tone to the older woman, who is watching him intently over the table. She rasps something in half a whispered voice that seems to have turned to sandpaper over time. His translation modulator picks up bits and pieces of the sentence and he stiffens in the chair. 

“What did you say,  Maman ?” She young girl crouches to be eye level and gives the elderly woman a confused look. Never looking away from him, the ancient hag repeats herself. 

“What is she saying, sir? I’m still green on the language here.”

The Mandalorian shrugs and tries to give off indifferent body language. “Don’t know.”

She pats the elderly woman on the hand and speaks softly to her, but this old hag still won’t stop staring him down. He’s getting ready to rise from the chair when the girl brandishes a small kit before him. 

“Seems like you would feel better doing this on your own?” He gives her a tense nod, and tries not to stumble under the weight of her brilliant smile. God’s, how can this girl be so happy?

She leans over to kiss the old woman on the cheek, “I’ll leave you to it. Going to go gather all the  womp rats together!” And she’s off, leaving him alone with the never blinking old hag. 

She repeats herself again while he unravels the kit, it's in a well-worn cloth but the cauterizer is newer as well as any other instrument. He ignores her while he preps the wound, but he can feel her heavy gaze across his shoulder blades. 

He’s halfway done before she says it again, stressing herself and he tells her in a clipped tone, “I heard you the first time.” She scoffs and returns to her knitting. 

He’s sure that they make quite the pair. 

When he’s finished, dizzy with the pain almost, his assailant returns chasing a blur of naked skin through the curtain and catching a wayward child by the armpits. “Oh no you don’t!” 

Mando observes the interactions, the old woman’s words weighing on his mind. The child is squealing in protest and shrieking laughter as the strange girl blows a raspberry on his  cheek and ducks back out the curtain with him supported on her hip. 

“Good with little ones.” Now, she wants to speak basic. He gives her a nod to assure the old woman that he’s heard her. 

“Not belong  here . Go with you.”

“No.”

“Need for your little one.”

The Mandalorian sits up ramrod straight. “How-”   


She taps her temple. “Know these things. Good girl. Smart with machines.  _ Kewapa _ .”

_ Songbird, _ she says. He  asks her, “What about the children here?”

“They been here longer than her already, will last when she is gone. Strong.”

“Do not think long. Bring trouble.” She adds lowly.

Silence falls between them. He has to be the one to break it this time. “What you said earlier, what did you mean by the end?”

“Mean what I say. You will bring about end for her.”

“Elaborate, grandmother. There are too many variables for end.” 

She smiles at the term. “You decide, Mando.”

The girl comes back in, like the whirlwind he’s discovered her to be. “All finished?” He stares at her long and hard, and when he stands, he notes that she doesn’t seem to be intimidated by his crowding of her. If anything, she smiles brighter and he is grateful for the helmet. He doesn’t think a woman has smiled at him this much in his entire life. It’s,  _ different _ . He can tell there is a genuine feel behind it. 

She seems to know what to do with the silence and tries to lead him from the hut. He gives a simple raised hand to the old woman who grouses, “Not think long. Remember I say.”

He expects the girl to question them, but she simply brings him back out into the yard and turns to face him fully.

“I’m sorry.... about well stabbing you and all. But, thank you. For not bringing me back to Huan.”

“You care about these children.” He states, not a question.

“Yes, of course. They are resilient.” 

He nods, mainly to himself and lets his mind mull over the old woman’s words. He sees that his cape has tangled from their prior tussle, and winces at the pain in his arm when he goes to fix it. 

“Oh! Here, sir. Let me! If you don’t mind...” She waits for him to still, waiting on his consent before she steps close and on her tip toes to untangle it for him. 

The Mandalorian stares above her head and off into the distance, basking in the glow of her attentions, even if they are not done with affection. She moves back with a flourish and she’s tied his cape up so that it supports his healing arm. 

He feels an overwhelming sense of.... gratitude. “Thank you.” He’s glad for the modulator because he thinks that his voice cracks under the weight of the foreign sensation building.

“Well, it’s the least I could do.” 

He’s going to leave with his dignity intact, but part of him wants to stay a little longer and simply just, be.

“See you around?” She breathes, sounds  hopeful . That doesn’t help.

He can practically feel the sadness she emits when he goes another moment before speaking. 

“Tomorrow, girl. Docking Bay 3, Razer Crest. Be there at first light, alone.” He turns and gets a few feet away before she calls out to him. 

“It’s Syra!”

He only offers her a two fingered salute before he slips away into the darkness. 

The Mandalorian skips going back to the bakery. Let the old codger suffer, maybe he’s getting softer because of the Boy. He could care less now if the man loses any property. 

The Child is delighted to see him, fingers reaching when he steps near. He goes to take a credit from the inner pouch at his side, give the boy something shiny to play with.

There’s nothing there, the pouch is gone. He huffs a laugh that makes the Boy start babbling. 

She’s robbed him.

There’s a moment when he thinks he should return, take her in for real. He doesn’t want to leave the Child any longer so he can wait, until she shows up in the morning. If she does at all.

She’s there, the next morning. Outside and waiting for him when he leaves the ship, the Child  tittering along behind him.

“Huan’s looking for you.” She says excitingly. “He’s rather angry.”

If he thought she was brilliant at night, in the light of the breaking sun she is absolutely stunning. 

_ Flower _ , he thinks  absentmindedly . 

“Do you make a habit of robbing people after you stab them,  _ sarad _ ?” He can’t stop the words from tumbling out and he can’t regret them because she smiles; he feels like he could stand there and lounge under the light that she gives off. 

“Those children needed it. Do you disagree?”

The Child coos from behind him, owl like eyes feasting upon the blooming flower standing close. The sun is glancing off the kaleidoscope of her eyes and makes her hair appear like dancing flames. Standing in a large belted tunic and thin boots, she looks like a queen playing dress up in commoner's clothing. The boy lets out a quiet sound that tapers off into wonder. 

_ Me too, kid _ he thinks.

“Hello, little one.” She whispers, crouched low and spanning an open hand out for the boy to take. He delights in her attention and waddles closer.

She looks up at the Mando, with a breathless “Is he yours? He’s precious.”

“I need help with him. He can be quite the handful. I could also use someone handy for repairs.”

It’s her turn to stare up at him, mouth parted lightly and blinking slowly. Perhaps she misunderstood his request last night? He takes note of a tattoo peeking out from beneath her collar.

“The old woman told me to take you. Figured that you were trying to get off this rock.”

Still nothing from her, what the...

“I can pay you, 15 percent of what I make. To help with the Boy.” 

Not enough? Maybe she’s not interested. Her stare is making shoulders ache.  _ Kriff _ , what is she looking at him like this for?

“ Syra ?” He asks.

It seems to work this time,  because she stands with the Boy  cradled close to her chest. 

“You’re magnificent.” She breathes, before her face goes a pretty pink color.

“I - what?” He feels his  own  face heat up when she takes a step forward, slow and smooth like she’s approaching some sort of animal.

“You, I - I mean. W- well, your armor rather.” She stammers,  flailing her free arm about.

“ Beskar .” He tells her and she parrots back to him with a shy smile this time. What is he getting into asking this girl to join him ? He’s got enough distraction with the kid running around.

The Mandalorian freezes when she reaches _up_ _up_ _up_ , that pretty freckled face so full of wonder and amazement. Her fingers glance off the edge of his helmet. 

“Sorry, just you standing there in front of the sun. You just look like  the  a....conquering hero or something.”

He’s speechless at this point, but he can feel amusement bubbling at the surface. 

“That so?”

“Well yes. I’ve never seen a real Mandalorian before, can’t blame a girl for being  intrigued .”

He hmms quietly at her. This girl is quite the enigma. 

“I suppose this is your way of apology for-”

“There you are you good for nothing bit-!” Huan rounds the corner of the ship and blanches at the sight of them standing together. 

“Oh good! I see you caught our little troublemaker.” He spits at the toe of  Syra’s boots and rasps in the ugly language. “ _ Foreigner. _ ” It’s a distasteful tone, but she takes is gracefully. She must be used to dealing with the likes of these locals for quite some time now. 

“Care to finish what you were saying?” The Mandalorian  says, dead flat tone not laying  way to his anger. 

“This girl has been nothing but trouble since she arrived. She’s been stealing from me for months now! I tried to look it over at first, but it’s a t-  thre-att ,  to – to, the -” Huan is turned into a blubbering mess, his heavily accented Basic slipping when the warrior steps closer, his posture rigid. 

“You knew why she was stealing?” Mando asks, he already knows the answer. 

“Well - well, yes! But still, it is -”

“You wanted me to punish the girl for providing for orphans that the rest of you turned a blind eye to?”

“She was stealing!” Now Huan’s face is turning red and sees  Syra stir in the corner of his eye. Stay still,  _ sarad _ .

“You think so little of my moral standing that I would hurt a girl for feeding Children that are not her own?”

“No! Now that’s not what I am saying...that is good money to me that she took from my property!”

Mando huffs under his breath. “She was taking leftovers from the trash. Hardly any damage done to you.”

“She broke into the building!”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Get better locks. Keep your money.”

Huan stands there, flabbergasted while The Mandalorian ushers  Syra deeper into the ship with a gentle hand on her arm, she keeps looking over her shoulder at Huan and then back to his helm. “So, you coming or what kid?” She nods frantically, freedom just within her reach.

“I well -What about him?”

“Huan!” The Mando barks and the old bastard jumps at the sound.

“Get the fuck off my ship.”

He feigns anger when  Syra flips the old man off, and the Child follows her lead.


End file.
